An Indecent Proposal
by thoroughlymodernJulie
Summary: Caught unawares by a surprise Maria has been keeping for the right moment, Georg is presented with an opportunity he cannot resist. Unfortunately for him, not everything goes quite according to plan, but his wife is more than equal to the task. Pillow Talk-verse oneshot based on "Virtuosic" (ch. 26). Can be read as a standalone but benefits from proper context.


1943  
Stowe, VT

* * *

Georg knocked quietly on their bedroom door, murmuring, "Maria, love, are you ready for our walk?"

"I put Rosemary in the nursery," came Maria's muffled voice. "You can come in!"

Brow furrowed, Georg pushed the door open and found that though his wife's dressing gown and several baby blankets were piled in her spot on the bed, his wife was nowhere to be found. Sometimes, when Rosemary wouldn't settle, Maria would bring her into the bedroom, undress her, and lay her down on her bare chest, humming quietly until the fussy child finally drifted off. Oftentimes Georg would come in from the study and find them both fast asleep, and he would gently extract the child from his wife's arms, careful not to wake either of them, and take the baby to the nursery for the night.

Other days, Maria would simply doze, and then dress again while he put Rosemary down, so as to go on an evening walk. This was unusual.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," Maria said, exiting the bathroom, "I just wanted this to be a bit of a surprise." She was brushing out the skirt of a lavender chiffon dress, smoothing it neatly. "I know it's not the same color and print as the old one, but I came up with a suitable pattern for it, and I liked what I found in the storage bins at the shop." She gave a little shrug and a smile.

"I love it," Georg rasped. Somehow, some way, she always managed to set the proportions of the clothing she made for herself just right, not overselling her assets but certainly not underselling, either. She had chosen to retain the belted waist, the airy sleeves, the skirt length… what was different, however, was that she had decided to trade the conservative neckline for a dipping vee, and the teasing swell of her breasts underneath the artfully ruched fabric that crossed shoulder to shoulder was enough to proclaim confidence and appeal without being grossly indecent.

She spun with a light laugh, showing off the dreamy flare of the asymmetrical skirt, revealing a long line of small covered buttons that ran from shoulder blades to the base of her spine, just watching her husband's reaction from the mirror, where he could be seen swallowing hard as he observed the line of her long neck, trailing down her spine. He was already picturing himself coming up behind her, whispering in her ear, kissing her neck, unfastening each button with a kiss against the bare skin of her shoulders.

Slipping her feet into a pair of nude pumps that sat at the foot of the mirror, Maria turned around and held out her arm. "Shall we?"

"It almost seems a shame to not take advantage of this blissful quiet," Georg lamented.

"It would be a travesty if you were to divest me of this garment so quickly," Maria parried with a severe expression. "Quite a bit of effort went into this, you know! Chiffon is an absolute devil to work with."

"Oh, we're going for our walk," Georg said hastily. "Finally, it's a clear night and it's warm."

"Mmm, I guessed as much," Maria nodded with an appreciative sigh as her husband linked arms with her and led the way from their bedroom to the back porch. "You've left your sleeves rolled up and your shirt unbuttoned," she said in a stage whisper.

Grinning down at his wife, Georg pushed the screen door open carefully, pulling his wife through quickly. "I'm not convinced that everyone is asleep," he confessed. "We would never hear the end of it from Marta and Gretl. They think any and every bit of affection is nauseating, these days."

"They turned in well over an hour ago," Maria whispered. "It's Rosemary I hope remains asleep."

"And in that case, we'll see the lights from the windows," Georg assured.

Having navigated down the steps soundlessly and hurried along the path leading past the gardens, Maria let out a giggle when they made it past the hedges and found themselves walking through lush, dewy grass toward the gazebo sitting just beyond the crest of trees before the mountains rose above them.

"I feel somewhat like a schoolgirl sneaking about," she confessed. "Though I've no reason to."

"Escaping a stubborn baby who won't sleep is always an exercise fraught half with fright and half with exhilaration," Georg said. "Fright that you have failed again and won't see sleep for hours, and exhilaration that maybe, just maybe… you'll get away with it just this once."

"Indeed," Maria agreed, posture relaxing and her stride lengthening as the pair moved further and further from their full farmhouse.

"I hope you'll like what we've done," Georg said, pointing ahead of them to the wooden benches placed all around the alcove that the new gazebo was nestled in. "It turns out stone is rather expensive, and not worth the cost of the labor to cut it and bring it here, so the boys thought they would make a project of creating park benches themselves and try their hand at landscaping."

"It's wonderful," Maria sighed happily, sitting down on a bench that was placed just beyond the gazebo's doors. She looked up at the stars, exclaiming at her immediate location of the North Star. "It gets easier every time!"

Chuckling, Georg sat down beside her and looked up. "Practice makes perfect, they say," he opined, taking her hands in his and setting them in his lap.

"For proof of every adage there is a contradiction," Maria said wryly. "If ever there was proof that all the practice in the world could not make you what you can never be, I am it."

"But a lovely contradiction you have proven yourself to be," Georg said lightly, gaze still upon the stars. At the sound of a disbelieving tut from his wife, he tore his eyes away from the night sky and observed her instead. "Maria? Surely, five years on, you've made your peace…?"

"Oh, I have, I promise," she sighed. "Though it still smarts sometimes that I could not make it work. Much like you, I do not handle failure as well as I might."

"I don't think it's failure to walk away from something knowing it is no longer right for you," Georg said carefully, "especially if you can walk away with your head held high, with grace and dignity."

"Did it look that way?" Maria laughed darkly. "Truly, it did not feel that way. Especially as I walked away with the sense that a cloistered life had _never_ been right for me, and I was the only one who did not know it."

"Sometimes it takes considerable trial to come to that conclusion oneself. Which, truly, in many ways, that journey is far more important than the destination itself."

"Careful," Maria said, leaning over to kiss her husband. "Wouldn't want to sell yourself short, now."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, lost in their respective trains of thought.

"I see what you mean, Georg," Maria said at last, breaking the silent reverie. "Even if we had realized our feelings sooner, acted on them… that did not mean either of us would have been prepared to face the consequences of such an undertaking. You were still grieving your Agathe, even if you were loathe to admit it, and not to mention all but promised to Elsa Schroeder… and I… I was not yet in a place of accepting that a life of faith was beyond my capabilities."

Gazing at his wife thoughtfully, Georg stroked a thumb over her warm hands, considering how best to angle his response. She was not one to speak of this topic often, and so he did not wish to blow it off, but neither did he wish to assign it more weight than it was worth.

"Well," he ventured, "I hadn't promised Elsa anything, not until after you left, anyway. And now I think _you_ are the one selling _yourself_ short. No, listen," he said gently, placing a finger to her protesting lips. "I won't pretend I did not see myriad flaws and shortcomings in the fact that you ran off the way you did, but Maria, surely you must see by now that your capabilities are such that they extend beyond being a sole servant of the Lord."

In response to her long, doleful gaze, he queried, "Answer me this: how many of those veteran nuns could handle seven unruly children as well as you did? And to think, we now have another!"

"Not many," she admitted with a small sigh. "Some of the younger ones, perhaps, but… certainly not in a motherly fashion."

"And how many among those would have known how to handle me?"

"Every one of them likely would have shrank like wallflowers," Maria said, "and done your bidding without question, from fear and duty."

"Precisely," Georg smiled, drawing an arm around her and holding her close. "I have a little secret, Maria."

"What is that, my love?"

"As much as I value orderliness, discipline, and obedience, I absolutely despise unquestioned conformity."

"That explains a lot," Maria laughed, getting to her feet and turning to face the glass structure behind them. Glancing up and down the height of the gazebo, she rested a hand on the door handle and turned, pulling it open and entering it. "It really did turn out so beautiful," she breathed. "I was skeptical that paned glass would be a good idea, just the three of you, but…"

Craning around to watch his wife as she walked slowly in circles around the gazebo, her hands clasped against her chin as though she were praying, he smiled. Without having intended it to be so, this evening was turning out to be very much like the one he'd expressed a wish to replicate last month when the structure had been initially completed. He wondered if she felt the overwhelming sense of déjà vu as strongly as he did. He was about to open his mouth and voice the question, when she did it for him.

"I've the strangest feeling I've been here before… don't you, Georg?"

Brushing off the seat of his pants as he stood, Georg went to join his wife inside the glass walls, and what he met there was a mischievous glinting expression in her eyes that told him that she was thinking exactly what he thought she was thinking. It happened, however, that this time, they were married, she was not shy—not that she had been, then! Oh, no!—nor did an overwhelming sense of propriety hold Georg back from everything he sorely wished to do to her.

Of course, there was another benefit to nearly five years of marriage… he could say it, as well, all of it, and she would not be scandalized nor offended, and she would know precisely what he meant. She might blush, yes, but it would be no obstacle out here in the darkness, only the moon shining down on them.

"I'm ever so glad that you told me a man can't love one woman and marry another, Georg. It seemed to me it might simply be something about your world that I would have to accept, but you proved it so completely wrong, and for that I am eternally thankful."

"It is a shame that more people don't enjoy their marriages," Georg said. "Knowing what it was to love deeply, and to be loved in return, it is the only thing that gave me the strength to break it off with the Baroness and come find you. I had to see if you returned that love. I guessed that you might, but I felt I might be grasping into a void all the same. I've been known to do that."

Slipping into his embrace, Maria kissed him slowly, meshing her body against his, and sighed. "Oh, my love."

"I'm so glad to see you've made good on your promise so soon," Georg grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her fast against him. "It is a lovely innovation, this dress."

"And I bid the same to you," Maria said with a nod of satisfaction toward the marbled seats that lined the perimeter of the gazebo interior. "They're quite lovely."

"I thought it a bit excessive, but apparently my children like to run circles on these benches when I'm not looking, so it seemed prudent to invest in something durable." At Maria's raised eyebrow, Georg explained, "Brigitta made a comment to me once when I asked why Liesl was limping one evening… and the boys damaged a few of their handcrafted benches in the name of theatrics and sport."

"We do surely have a long line of grandchildren to come," Maria shrugged, smiling slightly.

"Oh, ho, Maria, don't push our eight out the door so fast! You know I'm not pleased about this engagement business going on with Liesl and Friedrich."

"Then why did you give permission for it?" Maria countered. "That's rather silly of you, Georg."

"They just seem so young," he sighed. "Much younger than I felt at that age."

"Yes, well, you had near a decade of seafaring life behind you by then, and a war," Maria said pointedly. "You would feel differently than Liesl and Friedrich seem. Or otherwise you simply wish they hadn't gone and grown up so quickly."

"Indeed," Georg sighed. "At least I have you to thank for making sure I did not completely squander what little time I had left with them."

Tracing the collar of his shirt, Maria said quietly, "Now who's pushing our children out the door too soon?"

"Touché, my love," Georg sighed. Looking down at his wife, observing her darkened profile, he asked, "Is this the part where you're going to sing for me now?"

"Alas, no," Maria giggled, heat flushing across her chest and up her neck to her face. "I was under the impression that my husband might be leading this particular encore."

Taking her face in his hands, Georg gazed into her wide, blue eyes. So much had changed, and yet here in front of him, so little. She was a little wiser, a little more mature, seasoned, certainly more beautiful, and a bit sadder, too, but in essence, she was the woman he fell madly in love with five summers ago and continued to fall in love with again every day. It was a mystery to him, how such a thing could possibly work the way it did, but he had learned long ago that when it came to matters of the heart, it was best not to ask too many questions.

It was better simply to act.

Tenderly, he leaned down to kiss her, and moaned slightly at the softness of her lips touching his, of her easy, practiced hands sliding around his neck and back, her tongue beginning to dance with his, the little sigh of pleasure he heard emit from her throat as be broke away to observe the heaving chest in its gorgeous confines. Wondrously, he placed a hand over her racing heart, and delighted in what this felt like. He had wanted to do it, back then, but… it would have been far too forward, too much of an invitation… and remembering how eagerly Maria had kissed him back after her emotional revelations, he knew it would have gone too far.

But none of that remained any longer, and somehow, they'd found a new happiness, here, against all the odds, the sweat, the tears, the fights, the laughter, the song, the joy, the anger, the fear… it had all coalesced into a beautiful mess that in an odd and twisted way, made sense.

He hadn't expected to glean so much from a simple gazebo!

"Ravish me, Georg," came his wife's husky voice, deep and filled with obvious desire.

"Gladly," he murmured, taking her chin in his hand and leaning down for another languid kiss. Would she never stop electrifying him with this unthinkable passion? He hoped to God not. Prayed not. It was too precious to ever see fizzle to nothingness.

"My," Maria said, her voice a bit unsteady when he broke the kiss. "If you had dared to try such a tactic the last time we were alone in a gazebo together…"

He had approached the kiss with such warmth and care, as though he was making love to her with only his mouth and tongue, focused solely on conveying desire and longing. She was so unfathomably gorgeous, and sometimes when he looked at her, a fierce desire roared up in him so powerful that he wanted, needed, to have her. Often she would catch his gaze in these moments, and her blue eyes would blaze with absolute, unparalleled raw intensity. It could be over anything as innocuous as a cup of tea or as obvious as dancing together. Sometimes their children would walk in on it, and while some, like Liesl or Friedrich, would avert their eyes with a small smile and continue with their intended activities while stealing furtive glances, the others would make their feelings of disgust known and open.

Breathing deep, he swooped down on the hollow of her neck and kissed her repeatedly, licking the soft, sensitive skin until she began to shudder repeatedly. "Mmm," he grinned, pleased at how easily this particular spot turned her on. She was pressing herself up against him eagerly, and he was pleased to look down and find her décolletage on full display, breasts heaving, and unable to resist the opportunity, he lightly kissed each closed eyelid, earning a noise of approval for this.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, heat coursing through her body, she was beginning to feel lightheaded, and her only awareness was that Georg was surrounding her like a panther on the prowl. She gasped lightly to find his lips were behind her, kissing the expanse of her shoulders, a finger stroking its way down her back, from her neck to the base of her spine, and the sensation of his fingers trailing along the long row of buttons before his hands rested at the bottom of the row, spanning her waist, his thumbs kneading into her skin and relieving a mountain of pressure she hadn't known existed there.

Maria swiveled her head around and reached out a hand to kiss him, gasping loudly when his hands left her waist and came to rest over her breasts. She could feel his arousal building against her back, and fleetingly wondered how this would go.

One hand was sliding down to her waist once more, and he murmured low, "Come with me," to which she followed his backward lead toward a bench, settling onto his lap and allowing him to massage her breasts with abandon, causing her to writhe and shudder beneath his wanton touch.

"Georg," she gasped sharply when his fingers tweaked at her erect nipples, nearly causing her to expire right there.

He gave a final, gentle squeeze with a satisfied laugh, his breath tickling along the back of her neck, causing the hairs to raise with pure anticipation.

"I would be inclined to be disappointed in how well fitted this bodice is, Maria, as I cannot free your breasts as simply as some of your nighties…" he trailed, "but you're devilishly, wickedly creative, and you've made my job not only obvious, but enticing."

Remembering how he'd had her weeping with desire after the project of removing the dress she'd worn for their wedding reception, a beautiful fitted dress of cream satin and velvet with a row of covered buttons leading down the entire line of her spinal column in the only true nod of detailing… Maria had decisively passed on installing a zipper for this new dress and instead took great pleasure in the added time it required to install this panel of buttons, which she had outfitted with the matching chiffon fabric herself to match. "That's an awful lot of extra work," her employer had commented skeptically, "for both you and whatever daughter would be aiding you in fastening this." Maria had merely bent her head and stifled a laugh, hiding a coy smile.

"Just for you, love," she gasped, shivering as his lips touched the back of her neck and his fingers began the torturous process of unfastening the dress, one by one.

"You're going to be incoherent when I'm through with this," Georg whispered. "I'll push this off your shoulders and suck your skin everywhere I can reach, leave a love bite or two, discover how wet I've made you, turn you around to straddle me… take you right here and make you scream. And then later, when you can support yourself, I'll kneel down in front of you, an indecent proposal, I know…" he purred, "and make you scream with longing."

"You've thought this through," Maria choked out, heady with desire.

"I've had five years to think about it," he murmured, shifting himself so as to maneuver her weight a little more comfortably. "Almost to the day, Maria. Five years to ruminate, regret that this could never happen, refine the fantasy, formulate more effective technique as I get to know you better…"

Taking the hand that Maria had resting on her shoulder to cup his face and administer tiny kisses as he muttered his plans to her, he kissed each knuckle before slipping her wedding ring from her finger.

"Georg," she whimpered in protest, but he pocketed the ring and shook his head. "To make this as authentic as possible." He surveyed with pleasure the band of white skin where her ring usually resided, untouched by sunlight. "Don't worry, my love, the inevitable still remains, that we are meant for one another."

And without another word, he continued releasing the fastenings, sending frissons of pleasure bolting through Maria's body with each light touch, each caress, each tender kiss. When he finally reached the belt, she shuddered violently and let out a moan of longing as his hands slipped up into each side of the dress and slid upward to her shoulders, pushing the fabric from her body just as he had promised. Warm hands slid down the length of each arm, removing her entirely from the confines of the garment's bodice. Gooseflesh was raising rapidly over her warm skin as he did this, tickling her stomach, ribcage, breasts like a feather, the gentle breeze of the night air aiding him in his quest to ravish the woman surrounding him. Her hands were not idle, for they were gliding slowly along the length of the sides of his thighs, introducing an element of deliberate participation that he hadn't planned and yet fit in all too well.

"Maria," he slurred, "you're making this difficult for me to follow through…"

"Good," she said breathily, "it wouldn't hurt you to have to work a little harder."

With a growl, he turned her around and she kissed him ardently before acquiescing to straddle a leg over his lap, allowing him the access to her breasts that he so desired, gasping and arching as he suckled the soft flesh, licked it, kneaded it in his hands to satisfied groans and sharp whimpers of pleasure, fingers entangled in his hair as she stared up at the glass ceiling, clearly attempting to reroute the intensity of her desire outward.

She was dangerously close to dismantling his plans for this encounter, as she was failing in this endeavour and began a purposeful tilt of her hips against his engorged and trapped member, hands lighting down the back of his neck, tracing over his collar, beginning to unfasten his shirt and push it roughly away from his body. Next, her nimble and practiced fingers found his belt buckle and deftly removed it entirely, sending it clattering to the floor. Before he could blink, his penis was removed from its confines, and she was teasing him mercilessly.

"Maria," he choked out, "this wasn't part of the plan…"

"That's what makes fantasy so boring and reality so exciting," a low voice that he seldom heard emit from his wife said. She was in far deeper than he'd even imagined was possible. This was only supposed to be a risqué encounter requested for the purpose of assigning value to a project that had been a true pain in the neck, one requested for nostalgia's sake, and for a touch of excitement and romance…

"I'm so wet, Georg, I've been waiting so patiently to show you this dress, to go on this walk… if it weren't for all this rain!" she growled.

Patience had never been her strong suit. Not one bit.

"Not so patient, judging from all the lovemaking that has happened in the last month," he responded, slipping a hand beneath her skirts and pushing the lace panties she wore aside so as to return her distracting ministrations. Her flesh was so hot, so wet, so welcoming!

"Guilty as charged," she admitted, grasping his sex in such a way that he was momentarily stunned. "I'm not immune from fantasizing," she whispered conspiratorially. "This dress… Georg, every aspect of creating this dress has been an exercise in imagining."

Regaining some ability to speak as his wife released her grasp, he couldn't help moaning, "Oh, you're going to wear this in public, aren't you?"

Wriggling purposefully and rising slightly on her knees to guide him inside her beneath her skirts, the sweet scent of the skin of her breasts filling his senses, mirth purred in the back of her throat as she answered in that deep, thick voice: "It would be perfect for the social at the town hall next week, wouldn't you agree?"

Swallowing hard, Georg could only nod, mind filled with the sensation of his wife's body sinking down around him, knowing that she would be the death of him. It was perhaps the best part of being able to call her his wife, his lover, his heart. She wouldn't settle simply for complacency. She was always a glad, determined participant in this strange thing called life, and she made it somehow brighter.

Already, she was pushing him deliberately to orgasm, and considering sheer amount of restraint he had been exercising from the moment she walked out of their bathroom wearing the lavender chiffon dress up to the moment where she'd taken him in her hands, he thrust strongly into her and let her body claim him, her muscles clamping around him rhythmically, her fingers raking through his hair, her swollen lips suckling his own, nails dragging over the skin of his back as she cried out at his release and the flood of warmth to follow as she also came, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as her chest heaved against him, waiting for her heart rate to lower and her breathing to even.

"You forgot to shave," she murmured a while later, fingers lighting over the slight shadow of scruff that had appeared over the course of the day.

Easing her off of him and sliding her gently into the spot beside him, Georg did up his pants and stood, reaching out to pull her to her feet. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Maria shook her head, smiling. "Sometimes I like it when I look in the mirror and find you've left behind something that I need to be sure to cover up. It's been a while." Bending to sweep up his shirt, she gestured, "I do you, you do me?"

Nodding, Georg held out his arms and shrugged into the garment, allowing Maria to straighten the collar and smooth out the shoulders before walking around front to button him up. Smirking, she even slipped her hands beneath the waistband of his pants to tuck the shirt in all the way around. "Do you want your belt?" she asked innocently.

"Uh, I can do without right now, I think," Georg stumbled, distracted by the feel of her nimble hands working their way deftly around his middle, the creamy pale skin of her still-exposed torso glinting silvery in the moonlight.

Swallowing, he stroked a finger up the length of one arm and helped her shrug back into the bodice, turning her around to straighten the shoulders and begin fastening the column of buttons.

"Unfasten the belt for a moment," Maria said softly, squirming a bit. "The dress is a bit twisted about, now. Not too comfortable."

Unlatching the fastening as she requested, he watched as she quickly shifted the garment to fall straight on her body, admiring the outward flare of her hips from her waist, further accentuated when she reached behind to refasten the item, nodding that he could finish buttoning the dress.

When the task was completed, Georg turned his wife around by the shoulders and gazed intently into her eyes, wondering at the calm peacefulness of such moment that was preceded by such passion. It was simple, profound. A wife buttoning her husband's shirt, a husband doing up his wife's dress. As ordinary as you please, as if they were merely preparing to attend church or attend a dinner party.

"What is it, Georg?" Maria murmured, resting a hand over his heart.

Mutely, he shook his head. "I stand amazed, nothing more."

She blushed slightly at the compliment, gaze lowering demurely.

"Sit," he gestured, releasing her.

She stepped back, hands clasped behind her, and sat down compliantly, gazing up at him expectantly.

Stepping closer, Georg kneeled down before his wife and reached into his pocket, fishing out her wedding ring. He quirked a smile. "I promised an indecent proposal, and you've made more than good on your promise," he said, gesturing that she should hold out her left hand.

She did so, feeling as though every nerve in her was humming with desire, and she couldn't help the sensation of joy and love sweeping over her as he pushed the ring onto her finger and kissed it, laying it down to rest on the cold marble seat.

"That dress, my love, is far better than its beautiful predecessor. I vastly prefer this gazebo to the old one, and now, it is well worth the trouble it was to assemble it."

"I'm glad," Maria said warmly, patting the had he'd laid upon her knee. "Very glad."

"With your permission, I'd like to endeavour to heighten said gladness."

"You always have it," she murmured, "and you have it now."

Her gaze was filled with that raw, uninhibited desire he'd thought of earlier, and she was uncrossing her legs, slipping off her shoes. Nodding with resolve, he slipped his hands underneath her skirt once more, this time to rest on her hips and remove her undergarments. She shifted her hips upward to aid him, and kicked them away as he yanked them down her long legs. She laughed, perhaps at the absurdity, the silence surrounding their actions, or even sheer anticipation. She did very much enjoy when he'd decide he would take her to torturous heights with only his hands and his mouth.

The scent of her arousal was heady, and mixed with his own seed, that roaring fierce pride and ownership overtook him, and without much preamble, he shoved her skirts out of his way and pushed her legs apart.

Stroking the engorged flesh of her sex, he teased and circled it in patterns of circles until she was emitting helpless gasps and grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as her desire heightened and she began to writhe against the light, yet tantalizing sensations that were coursing through her from crux to her breasts, waves of pleasure washing over her. She finally settled on crumpling his shirt collar in her fists.

Georg was exceedingly glad that she'd had the foresight to remove her shoes… she'd managed to kick him more than once in similar predicaments, and it hurt far less this way. Grasping one leg, he trailed kisses from calf to inner thigh before resting it over his left shoulder, bringing him satisfactorily within range of carrying out his next task. Resting a hand on her free leg with the intention of stilling her and avoiding a vise-like clamp, he slipped two fingers inside her and hummed appreciatively at her loud noises of approval as he stroked her insides, reveling at the powerful contraction and release of her body around him, steadily becoming more frantic as her reactions turned increasingly more involuntary.

On the cusp of orgasm, he stopped this intimate ministration and glanced upwards to find that Maria's head was thrown back against the wall, an expression of mingled frustration, rapture, and pleasure on her face. Realizing that he had stopped, she breathed deeply and blinked down at him with blazing eyes, uttering, "If you're going to do this, I won't let you touch for me with amorous intent while wearing this dress _ever_."

"I hear your entreaty, and I honor it," Georg murmured, bringing his mouth to her sex and kissing it as intimately and wonderfully as if he was kissing her full on the mouth. His tongue swirled around her clitoris, he explored the soft folds with boldness, stroked the length of her sex with a combination of warmth and gentle roughness that made her cry out, truly sob. She inhaled sharply and deeply, letting loose a strangled utterance that might have been his name, when deliberately, he ceased the flicking and stroking of her sex and began to gently suck instead. He sucked like she would when she was fixated on his lower lip, her goal to drive him so wild that he literally crawled all over her skin, singing its praises and making her practically levitate with desire.

"Georg…" she rasped, bringing both fists down on either side of her as he took in her confirmation that she was close to a shattering orgasm and slipped his fingers inside her again, applying deliberate and rapid pressure against the ridged flesh inside her, causing her to lurch forward as the dizzying power of her orgasm washed over her again and again. He did not relinquish his hold on her until she was a limp entanglement of limb and nerve.

"Oh, Georg," she quivered, watching him gather her shoes and panties. "That… that was incomprehensible."

"I was hoping you might say that," he grinned, walking over to where she sat recuperating her senses and holding out a hand. In his other, her shoes were hooked on his thumb and pointer finger. He'd jammed the lace garment in the same pocket he'd stowed her wedding ring, and it was lazily hanging out.

"You might want to fix that," she murmured, pointing as she accepted her shoes and slipped them on.

"Oh, no one is around to see," Georg said carelessly. "Can you walk?" he asked.

Maria took his outstretched hand and rose to her feet, somewhat unsteadily, but nodded, shaking her head slightly to clear it.

"How about a turn about the pond?"

"You're cutting no corners tonight, are you?" Maria asked ruefully. "I'm afraid you may have addled my wits a bit, dear husband!"

"You had mine for a while," Georg countered. "I was afraid… I was afraid you wouldn't let me carry through with my intentions. You seemed quite focused, Maria…"

"Oh, I figured I might as well save something for last," she said, looking up at her husband meaningfully. "Once we're stowed safely away in bed. It seemed so important to you to, eh, be able to christen this thing." She gestured behind her to the gazebo as they walked away from it, the doors fastened shut.

"You were right," Georg said. "The reality… well, it far outpaced the fantasy. You're incredible, Maria."

"You're not so bad yourself, Captain," Maria returned, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked along. "Not bad at all."

"So how exactly have you found the time to make this magnificent dress?"

"A massive backorder was delayed," Maria shrugged. "We couldn't do much for about a week."

"Someday, this war might end," Georg sighed, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist, holding her tight to him. "The war will end, and all will be well."

"It already is well, Georg," Maria said softly. "Not to discount the struggles we've faced up to this point, but could you have imagined having a large, sprawling farmhouse, land, a mountain backdrop, our family all together…"

"It's almost disturbing, this idyllic life we lead now," Georg echoed. "Sometimes, I forget that there's even a war waging an ocean away, and it does not bother me that I have. Is that strange?"

"It sounds like contentment," Maria replied.

The couple walked around the large pond in silence, pondering their own respective thoughts. Looking up toward the house, Maria gave a sound of approval to see that all the windows were dark. "Good," she breathed, "Rosemary is still asleep. We'll just have to be careful not to make too much noise coming back inside."

Georg glanced down at his wife and laughed, squeezing her shoulders as they walked along. "I'm so glad I asked you to indulge me."

"I think perhaps you might have to share with me your indecent proposals a little more often," Maria winked, breaking free from Georg's embrace as they moved toward the gardens.

Shaking his head at her constant ability to flirt, Georg shook his head with a chuckle and jogged to catch up with her, admitting, "I don't really have those very often. I only mentioned it at all because we suddenly had a gazebo to christen."

"It makes me wonder what lengths you'd go to in order to indulge some of _my_ fantasies," Maria teased.

"For you, anything," her husband said seriously. "Care to share?"

"No," Maria said, twirling around playfully as she meandered toward the back steps. "I think we've both had enough adventure for one night, and I've already promised you an encore."

Sighing, Georg held out a hand and escorted his wife up the steps, reaching out to open the door. "Fair enough."

The screen door swung open easily, and Maria stepped forward to open the big door, but frowned at the knob's unwillingness to turn in her hand. Sidling up against the chipping green door, she shoved her shoulder against it and found that it would not budge.

"It's locked," she huffed in frustration. "I thought we left the door ajar…"

"Someone must have come down," Georg shrugged. "We can just go around front."

Clasping hands, they wandered around to the front of the farmhouse, only to find that this door had been locked, as well. Puzzled, Georg turned to his wife with a furrowed brow. "What on earth…?"

"Oooooh," Maria groaned. "Of course!" Looking over at her husband apologetically, Maria said, "Gretl has been a bit enthusiastic about the most recent safety lessons they've been giving at school, you know, in case the capital and the periphery is bombed by the Russians or the Germans."

Exhaling long through his nose, Georg cleared his throat without comment, but Maria could see his annoyance in the twitching vein in his forehead. "We could go in through the storm cellar," he suggested.

"Uh, the locksmith hasn't been out yet," Maria said. "It's still very much locked up from her locking spree. We'll have to ring the doorbell."

"It will surely wake the baby," Georg muttered.

"I'm aware," Maria said sharply.

Sighing, Georg squared his shoulders and ascended the steps, punching the doorbell with his thumb. He could hear it buzzing in the front hall. "Brigitta's bedroom is above the hall," he said. "She'll likely be the one to rescue us."

Eyes widening as he said this and hearing the faint pounding of several sets of feet coming down the staircase from the second floor bedrooms, Maria raced up the steps and snatched at the lingerie that was still hanging out of her husband's pocket, balling it in her fist and shoving it behind her as the locks were turned on the front door.

"What…?" Georg muttered, looking down where he'd felt Maria's hand scrabbling at his hip, but she shushed him quickly as the porch light turned on above them and the door was yanked open.

"Father? Mother? What's going on?" came Marta's groggy voice.

This was followed by an exclamation from Brigitta, who cried, "Mother! What is wrong, did you have a fall?! Father, why is your hair a mess?"

Glancing down at her chest, Maria groaned inwardly, realizing that her décolletage was covered in angry red scratches from the roughness of her husband's scruff on the sensitive skin. "I'm fine, Brigitta, just had a bit of a scuffle, uh, in the woods."

"In the woods? What were you doing in the woods?" came Gretl's high-pitched voice, filled with worry. "It's not safe this late at night," she said severely, looking her parents up and down.

Sighing with exasperation, Maria sidled up in front of her husband so that he could walk behind her and said with some irritation, "There's a full moon tonight, girls. We went for a walk, and _somebody_ locked the doors." Feeling Georg knock up against her fist, she opened her hand and felt him snatch away the incriminating evidence.

"Mother, is there something wrong with your arm? Are you hurt?"

"What?" Maria said absently, pulling her arm out from behind her. "No, darling, I'm fine."

"Father took something from you," Gretl said uncertainly, refusing to clear the staircase.

"No," Maria huffed, "darling, please, I need to check on Rosemary…"

"She's still asleep," Marta piped up, "and I saw it, too, Gretl!"

"Girls," Georg said sternly, holding up two empty hands, "I have nothing. Please get back in bed."

Maria glanced sideways at her husband, askance, which Brigitta did not miss, but echoed his sternness, pointing a finger up the stairs. "Bed. Now. And Gretl, no more locking the doors without permission, understood?"

"But Mother!"

"Gretl," Georg said warningly.

"Yes, Mother," she pouted, following Marta and Brigitta up the stairs to her bedroom.

When the last bedroom door was shut, Maria let out a terse breath she'd been holding and turned to her husband. "What did you do with them?" she hissed.

"Er," Georg swallowed. "I missed properly fastening those bottom buttons…"

Reaching behind her, Maria found the gap in the back of her dress and snagged her nails on the lace that was slipped between her belt and the opening at the base of her spine. Pulling it free, she looked down at the panties and then up at her husband, shaking her head. "'No one's around', huh?"

"Lesson learned," Georg promised, ushering his wife to their bedroom at the end of the hall. "Next time, put things back where they belong."

"Oh, you," Maria sighed, shutting their door behind her. Turning around, she walked toward their bed, an ear cocked toward the ceiling above them as she unfastened the remainder of the buttons.

Georg, who was unrolling his sleeves and shaking them out before removing it, looked over at his wife and said, "I think she's asleep."

"Yes, I think so," she nodded in agreement. Disappearing into the bathroom to fetch the hanger for her dress, she asked, "Pajamas or no?"

Upon hearing Georg groan loudly, Maria stuck her head out the bathroom door and asked with concern, "Darling, what is it?"

"I left my belt in the gazebo," he sighed.

Looking his naked body up and down, pants piled at his ankles, socks already removed, Maria raised an eyebrow and said, "No pajamas, I think. And leave the dress alone, it's soaking. I'll try to remember to take it out of the tub in the morning before I go upstairs."

"That's all you have to say?"

" _I_ won't be going back outdoors to fetch your belt," she said archly. "Unless you'd like to wash my dress for me? Chiffon is rather fussy." At her husband's quick shake of his head, she smirked. "I thought not. And I was planning on ample distraction, anyway. If all goes according to plan, you'll have forgotten all about that belt inside five minutes."

"That sounds rather like the second indecent proposal in one night."

"It takes two to tango," Maria purred, "and maybe, if you behave," she whispered in his ear, circling him, naked herself, now. "Maybe I'll divulge a fantasy or two. One involves me wearing nothing but a blood-red sash in my hair. One that, uh… has multipurpose properties."

Swallowing, Georg's head swiveled to follow her as she lay down on the bed and sprawled out lazily like a cat, beckoning him closer. He didn't know what he wanted more: for her to conjure up the imagery he was envisioning more clearly, or to act it out right here for him.

He lay down beside her and she snuggled up alongside him, a hand wandering over his burning skin, zeroing in on his groin. And then she whispered one last titillation before making good on her earlier promise for an encore: "I've got it stowed away at the shop, love… the sash."

An indecent proposal, indeed!

* * *

 _I owe my innumerable thanks to Dani, who believes in me when I'm at my worst and who prompted me with this amazing idea in the first place. And to ForeverJulie, who was patient about her birthday present being a day late, graciously beta-read it for me, thus allowing it to be published at all, and is a girl I'm so lucky to have for a friend. Hope you all enjoyed this rendezvous!_


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